Red Card
by Unproper Grammar
Summary: He's sticky and sweaty, and there's a streak of mud across his left cheek. But his hair is tossled and his grin lopsided, and to her, he's never looked so irresistable. [Daikari Vignette]


**matchmaker: **If you had told me four years ago that I was going to write a Daikari, I would have laughed, deemed you insane and gone on a ten minute rant about how I'd never do such a thing. Well, I'm glad you never asked me, cause I'd end up looking foolish.

I was inspired to write this little fic from the Digimon RPG I'm currently participating in on (I'm Hikari!), even though, from the looks of it, we're going in a Takari direction. The links to my livejournal can be found in my profile.

I'd like to thank **my first period teacher**; for being boring enough to bore me to tears so that I decided to write this and for not noticing that I wasn't paying attention. I'd also like to thank my friends, **Steph** and **Danielle **for taking an interest in reading it, and being the first ones to do so.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Digimon.

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Red Card

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She had promised to to watch his soccer game on Saturday. He had been feeling neglected and had whined to her about it earlier in the week.

"You never come to my games! Yet you're always at _his_ basketball games! Every week!"

Granted, it was an immature, childish phrase, but it rang thick with truth. She had not attended a soccer game of his in a good six months, but she _had_ stood on the sidelines of a basketball court, waiving her pom-poms and reciting cheers in favour of her blonde haired, blue eyed best friend.

So she had vowed to be there, and even agreed to bring her pom-poms.

Sitting down, she feels out of place and awkward. A white dress in a sea of black. The bleachers aren't as sturdy, and they lack the shiny shellac of the ones at the gym. The fall air is cool and crisp, vastly different from the machine produced heat. But the sky is bright and blue and sunny, and she prefers it to the fake, white floresant lights.

She looks out on to the field and sees him, stretching his limbs and scanning the crowd. His eyes land on her, and she watches as they light up as he gives her a sheepish wave.

She waves back and she can't explain the sudden jolt in her stomach or the flushing of her cheeks, but she finds she like it better this way.

The game commences and the crowd goes wild. She watches as he races up and down the field. He's swifter than her best friend, but he has just as much passion when it comes to his sport. He grits his teeth after a bad play and shouts at his team mates. He's always been good at leading others.

The crowd is screaming and shouting and all she can do is clench her fists and bite her lip, almost drawing blood. Her pom-poms lay shrewn beside her. She's too excited, too on the edge of her seat.

Based on his performance, it wasn't surprising when he scored the winning goal. Though she couldn't contain herself, and she lept to her feet and cheered loudly, clasping her hands together in delight.

Afterward, she waits for him outside the locker room, and when he emerges; she goes to give me a hug, but stops short, suddenly shy. He tilts his head to the side, and gives her a confused look. But a moment later, he smiles and suggests they walk down by the pier, and she obliges.

The sun's beginning to set, casting a soft orange glow on his profile. His duffel bag's slung over over one shoulder as he speaks excitedly. Did she see this play? How about when he did that? Or what about when that happened?

She nodds politely in response, but she hadn't really been listening. Their hands keep brushing against each other as they walked, and she couldn't help but be distracted.

But when he grabbs her hand suddenly, and smiles down at her, she could no longer ignore the beating of her heart, or the fluttering in her stomach.

He's sweaty and sticky and there's a streak of mud across his left cheek. His palm is stuck to her's and as she glances down at their enlaced fingers, she notices the dirt gathered at his fingernails. But his hair is tossled and his grin lopsided, and to her, he's never looked so irresistable.

So a moment later, when she wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his and when his arms encircled her waist, she notices something.

He may have been scruffy and not clean cut like her best friend, and the game wasn't in an expensive area, but his kiss was warm and inviting and his hands strong and calloused.

She noticed; that despite all of this; she likes it.


End file.
